r 


RECESSIONAL 
AND   OTHER   POEMS 


JSece&eifonal 
ana  Dt&er  Poem0 

BY 

RUDYARD    KIPLING 


T.   Y.   CROWELL   &   CO. 
NEW  YORK  AND  BOSTON 


RECESSIONAL 
AND   OTHER   POEMS 


Kece&stonal 

A  VICTORIAN  ODE 


of  our  fathers,  known  of  old  — 
Lord  of  our  far-flung  battle  line  — 
Beneath  whose  awful  hand  we  hold 
Dominion  over  palm  and  pine  — 
Lord  God  of  Hosts,  be  with  us  yet, 
Lest  we  forget — lest  we  forget ! 

The  tumult  and  the  shouting  dies  — 
The  Captains  and  the  Kings  depart  — 

Still  stands  Thine  ancient  sacrifice, 
An  humble  and  a  contrite  heart. 

Lord  God  of  Hosts,  be  with  us  yet, 

Lest  we  forget  —  lest  we  forget  ! 


Recessional 


Far-called,  our  navies  melt  away — 

On  dune  and  headland  sinks  the  fire  — 

Lo,  all  our  pomp  of  yesterday 
Is  one  with  Nineveh  and  Tyre  ! 

Judge  of  the  Nations,  spare  us  yet, 

Lest  we  forget — lest  we  forget ! 

If,  drunk  with  sight  of  power,  we  loose 
Wild  tongues  that  have  not  Thee  in  awe- 

Such  boasting  as  the  Gentiles  use, 
Or  lesser  breeds  without  the  Law  — 

Lord  God  of  Hosts,  be  with  us  yet, 

Lest  we  forget  —  lest  we  forget ! 

For  heathen  heart  that  puts  her  trust 
In  reeking  tube  and  iron  shard  — 

All  valiant  dust  that  builds  on  dust, 

And  guarding  calls  not  Thee  to  guard — 

For  frantic  boast  and  foolish  word, 

Thy  Mercy  on  Thy  People,  Lord  ! 

Amen. 

[    2    ] 


AS  SUGGESTED   BT  THE   PAINTING 
BY  PHILIP   BURNE-JONES 

FOOL  there  was  and  he  made  his  prayer 

(Even  as  you  and  I  !) 
To  a  rag  and  a  bone  and  a  hank  of  hair 
(We  called  her  the  woman  who  did  not  care), 
But  the  fool  he  called  her  his  lady  fair 
(Even  as  you  and  I !) 

Oh  the  years  we  waste  and  the  tears  we  waste 
And  the  work  of  our  head  and  hand 
Belong  to  the  woman  who  did  not  know 
(And  now  we  know  that  she  never  could  know) 
And  did  not  understand. 


A  fool  there  was  and  his  goods  he  spent 

(Even  as  you  and  I  !) 
Honour  and  faith  and  a  sure  intent 

[  3  ] 


Cfje 


(And  it  wasn't  the  least  what  the  lady  meant), 
But  a  fool  must  follow  his  natural  bent 
( Even  as  you  and  I ! ) 

Oh  the  toil  we  lost  and  the  spoil  we  lost 
And  the  excellent  things  we  planned 
Belong  to  the  woman  who  did  n't  know  why 
(And  now  we  know  she  never  knew  why) 
And  did  not  understand. 

The  fool  was  stripped  to  his  foolish  hide 

(Even  as  you  and  I  !) 
Which  she  might  have  seen  when  she  threw  him 

aside  — 

(But  it  isn't  on  record  the  lady  tried) 
So  some  of  him  lived  but  the  most  of  him  died  — 

(Even  as  you  and  I !) 

And  it  isn't  the  shame  and  it  isn't  the  blame 
That  stings  like  a  white-hot  brand. 

[  4  ] 


Cfje  Oampire 


It 's  coming  to  know  that  she  never  knew  why 
(Seeing  at  last  she  could  never  know  why) 
And  never  could  understand. 


j>HAT   are    the   bugles    blowin'  for?"  said 

Files-on-Parade. 
"To  turn  you  out,  to  turn  you  out,"  the  Colour- 
Sergeant  said. 
"  What  makes  you  look  so  white,  so  white  ? "  said 

Files-on-Parade. 

"  I  'm  dreadin'  what  I  've  got  to  watch,"  the  Colour- 
Sergeant  said. 

For  they're  hangin'  Danny  Deever,  you  can  hear 
the  Dead  March  play, 

The  regiment's  in  'ollow  square  —  they're  hang- 
in'  him  to-day  ; 

[  5  ] 


Dannp  Deetiet 


They've  taken   of  his  buttons  off  an'   cut   his 

stripes  away, 
An'    they're    hangin'     Danny    Deever    in    the 

mornin'. 

"  What  makes  the  rear-rank  breathe  so  'ard  ? "  said 
Files-on-Parade. 

"It's  bitter  cold,  it's  bitter  cold,"  the  Colour- 
Sergeant  said. 

"  What  makes  that  front-rank  man  fall  down  ? " 
says  Files-on-Parade. 

"A  touch  o'  sun,  a  touch  o'  sun,"  the  Colour- 
Sergeant  said. 

They    are    hangin'    Danny    Deever,    they    are 

marchin'  of  'im  round, 
They  'ave  'alted  Danny  Deever  by  'is  coffin  on 

the  ground  ; 
An'  'e  '11  swing  in  'arf  a  minute  for  a  sneakin' 

shootin'  hound  — 
O  they  're  hangin'  Danny  Deever  in  the  mornin' ! 

[  6  ] 


Dannp  Deeper 


"  'Is  cot  was  right-'and  cot  to  mine,"  said  Files-on- 
Parade. 

"'E's  sleepin'  out  an'  far  to-night,"  the  Colour- 
Sergeant  said. 

"  I  Ve  drunk  'is  beer  a  score  o'  times,"  said  Files- 
on-Parade. 

"  'E  's  drinkin'  bitter  beer  alone,"  the  Colour-Ser- 
l*  geant  said. 

They  are  hangin'  Danny  Deever,  you  must  mark 

'im  to  'is  place, 
For  'e  shot  a  comrade  sleepin' — you  must  look 

'im  in  the  face  ; 
Nine   'undred  of  'is  county  an'  the   regiment's 

disgrace,  [mornin'. 

While   they're   hangin'    Danny  Deever   in   the 

"What's  that  so  black  agin  the  sun?"  said  Files- 
on-Parade. 

"It's  Danny  fightin'  'ard  for  life,"  the  Colour- 
Sergeant  said. 

[  7  ] 


Dannp 


"What's  that  that  whimpers  over'ead  ?"  said  Files- 
on-Parade. 

"  It 's  Danny's  soul  that 's  passin'  now,"  the  Colour- 
Sergeant  said. 

For  they  're  done  with  Danny  Deever,  you  can 

'ear  the  quickstep  play, 
The  regiment 's  in  column,  and  they  're  marchin' 

us  away  ; 
Ho  !  the  young  recruits  are  shakin',  an'  they  '11 

want  their  beer  to-day, 
After  hangin'  Danny  Deever  in  the  mornin'. 


WENT  into  a  public-'ouse  to  get  a  pint  o' 

beer, 

The  publican  'e  up  an'  sez,  "We  serve  no  red- 
coats here." 
The  girls  be'ind  the  bar  they  laughed  an'  giggled 

fit  to  die, 
I  outs  into  the  street  again,  an'  to  myself  sez  I  :  — 

O  it 's  Tommy  this,  an'  Tommy  that,  an' 
"Tommy,  go  away"; 

But  it 's  "  Thank  you,  Mister  Atkins,"  when  the 
band  begins  to  play, 

The  band  begins  to  play,  my  boys,  the  band  be- 
gins to  play, 

O  it 's  "  Thank  you,  Mister  Atkins,"  when  the 
band  begins  to  play. 

I  went  into  a  theatre  as  sober  as  could  be, 
They  gave  a  drunk  civilian  room,  but  'ad  n't  none 
for  me  ; 

[  9  J 


Commp 


They  sent  me  to  the  gallery  or  round  the  music- 

'alls, 
But  when  it  comes  to  fight  in',  Lord  !  they  '11  shove 

me  in  the  stalls  ! 

For  it's  Tommy  this,  an'  Tommy  that,  an' 
"  Tommy,  wait  outside  "  ; 

But  it's  "Special  train  for  Atkins"  when  the 
trooper 's  on  the  tide, 

The  troopship 's  on  the  tide,  my  boys,  the  troop- 
ship 's  on  the  tide, 

O  it's  "Special  train  for  Atkins"  when  the 
trooper  's  on  the  tide. 

Yes,  makin'  mock  o'  uniforms  that  guard  you  while 
you  sleep 

Is  cheaper  than  them  uniforms,  an'  they  're  starva- 
tion cheap  ; 

An'  hustlin'  drunken  soldiers  when  they're  goin' 
large  a  bit 

Is  five  times  better  business  than  paradin'  in  full  kit. 

[  10  ] 


Commp 


Then  it's  Tommy  this,  an'   Tommy  that,  an' 

"  Tommy,  'ow  's  yer  soul  ? " 
But  it's  "Thin   red  line  of  'eroes"  when  the 

drums  begin  to  roll, 
The   drums  begin  to  roll,  my  boys,  the  drums 

begin  to  roll, 
O   it's  "Thin    red    line  of  'eroes"  when    the 

drums  begin  to  roll. 

We  aren't  no  thin  red  'eroes,  nor  we  aren't  no 
blackguards  too, 

But  single  men  in  barricks,  most  remarkable  like  you ; 

An'  if  sometimes  our  conduck  isn't  all  your  fancy 
paints  : 

Why,  single  men  in  barricks  don't  grow  into  plas- 
ter saints ; 

While  it 's  Tommy  this,  an'  Tommy  that,  an' 

"Tommy,  fall  be'ind"; 
But   it 's   "  Please   to  walk  in  front,  sir,"  when 

there 's  trouble  in  the  wind, 


Commp 


There's  trouble  in  the  wind,  my  boys,  there's 

trouble  in  the  wind, 
O    it's  "Please    to    walk    in   front,  sir,"   when 

there 's  trouble  in  the  wind. 

You  talk  o'  better  food  for  us,  an'  schools,  an'  fires, 
an'  all : 

We  '11  wait  for  extry  rations  if  you  treat  us  rational. 

Don't  mess  about  the  cook-room  slops,  but  prove  it 
to  our  face. 

The  Widow's  uniform  is  not  the  soldier-man's  dis- 
grace. 

For    it's   Tommy    this,  an'    Tommy  that,  an' 

"  Chuck  him  out,  the  brute  !  " 
But  it 's  "  Saviour  of  'is  country  "  when  the  guns 

begin  to  shoot. 
Yes,   it's  Tommy  this,  an'   Tommy  that,  an' 

anything  you  please  ; 
But  Tommy  ain't  a  bloomin'  fool — you  bet  that 

Tommy  sees  ! 


(SOUDAN  EXPEDITIONARY  FORCE} 

sE'VE  fought   with    many  men    acrost    the 

seas, 

An'  some  of  'em  was  brave,  an'  some  was  not. 
The  Paythan  an'  the  Zulu  an'  Burmese  ; 
But  the  Fuzzy  was  the  finest  o'  the  lot. 
We  never  got  a  ha'porth's  change  of  'im  : 

'E  squatted  in  the  scrub  an'  'ocked  our  'orses, 
'E  cut  our  sentries  up  at  Sua/£///z, 

An'  'e  played  the  cat  an'  banjo  with  our  forces. 

So  'ere 's  to  you,  Fuzzy- Wuzzy,  at  your  'ome 
in  the  Soudan  ; 

You're  a  pore  benighted  'eathen,  but  a  first- 
class  fightin'  man ; 

We  gives  you  your  certificate,  an'  if  you  want 
it  signed, 

We  '11  come  an'  have  a  romp  with  you  when- 
ever you  're  inclined. 

[  13  ] 


We  took  our  chanst  among  the  Kyber  'ills, 

The  Boers  knocked  us  silly  at  a  mile, 
The  Burman  give  us  Irriwaddy  chills, 

An'  a  Zulu  imp'i  dished  us  up  in  style  : 
But  all  we  ever  got  from  such  as  they 

Was  pop  to  what  the  Fuzzy  made  us  swaller  ; 
We  'eld  our  bloomin'  own,  the  papers  say, 

But  man  for  man  the  Fuzzy  knocked  us  'oiler. 

Then   'ere's   to  you,  Fuzzy- Wuzzy,  an'  the 

missis  an'  the  kid  ; 
Our  orders  was  to  break  you,  an'  of  course 

we  went  an'  did. 
We  sloshed  you  with  Martinis,  an'  it  wasn't 

'ardly  fair  ; 
But  for  all  the  odds  agin'  you,  Fuzzy- Wuz, 

you  broke  the  square. 

'E  'as  n't  got  no  papers  of  'is  own, 
'E  'as  n't  got  no  medals  nor  rewards, 


So  we  must  certify  the  skill  'e  's  shown 
In  usin'  of  'is  long  two-'anded  swords  : 

When  'e 's  'oppin'  in  an'  out  among  the  bush 
With  'is  coffin-'eaded  shield  an'  shovel-spear, 

An  'appy  day  with  Fuzzy  on  the  rush 
Will  last  an  'ealthy  Tommy  for  a  year. 

So    'ere 's    to   you,    Fuzzy- Wuzzy,   an'    your 

friends  which  are  no  more  ; 
If  we  'ad  n't  lost  some  messmates  we  would 

'elp  you  to  deplore  ; 
But  give  an'  take 's  the  gospel,  an'  we  '11  call 

the  bargain  fair, 
For    if    you    'ave    lost    more    than    us,   you 

crumpled  up  the  square  \ 

'E  rushes  at  the  smoke  when  we  let  drive, 
An',  before  we  know,  'e 's  ackin'  at  our  'ead  ; 

'E 's  all  'ot  sand  an'  ginger  when  alive, 

An'  he 's  generally  shammin'  when  'e 's  dead. 

[  15  ] 


'E  's  a  daisy',  'e  's  a  ducky,  'e  's  a  lamb  ! 

'E  's  a  injia-rubber  idiot  on  the  spree  ; 
'E 's  the  on'y  thing  that  does  n't  give  a  damn 

For  a  Regiment  o'  British  Infantree  ! 

So  'ere 's  to  you,  Fuzzy- Wuzzy,  at  your  'ome 
in  the  Soudan  ; 

You're  a  pore  benighted  'eathen,  but  a  first- 
class  fightin'  man  ; 

An'  'ere's  to  you,  Fuzzy- Wuzzy,  with  your 
'ayrick  'ead  of  'air  — 

You  big  black  boundin'  beggar — for  you 
broke  a  British  square  ! 


l6  3 


JMOKIN'  my  pipe  on  the  mountings,  sniffin' 

the  mornin'  cool, 
I  walks  in  my  old  brown  gaiters  along  o'  my  old 

brown  mule, 

With  seventy  gunners  be'ind  me,  an'  never  a  beg- 
gar forgets 

It's  only  the  pick  of  the  Army  that  handles  the 
dear  little  pets— 'Tss  !  'Tss  ! 

For  you  all  love  the  screw-guns — the  screw- 
guns  they  all  love  you  ! 

So  when  we  call  round  with  a  few  guns,  o'  course 
you  will  know  what  to  do — hoo  !  hoo  ! 

Jest  send  in  your  Chief  an'  surrender — it's 
worse  if  you  fights  or  you  runs  : 

You  can  go  where  you  please,  you  can  skid  up 
the  trees,  but  you  don't  get  away  from  the 
guns. 

[   17  ] 


They  sends   us   along  where    the    roads   are,   but 

mostly  we  goes  where  they  ain't ; 
We'd  climb  up  the  side  of  a  sign-board,  an'  trust  to 

the  stick  o'  the  paint : 
We've  chivied  the  Naga  an'  Looshai,  we've  give 

the  Afreedeeman  fits, 
For  we  fancies  ourselves  at  two  thousand,  we  guns 

that  are  built  in  two  bits — 'Tss  !  'Tss  ! 

For  you  all  love  the  screw-guns,  etc. 

If  a  man  doesn't  work,  why,  we  drills  'im  an' 
teaches  'im  'ow  to  behave  ; 

If  a  beggar  can't  march,  why,  we  kills  'im  an'  rat- 
tles 'im  into  'is  grave. 

You  Ve  got  to  stand  up  to  our  business,  an'  spring 
without  snatchin'  or  fuss. 

D'  you  say  that  you  sweat  with  the  field-guns  ?  By 
God,  you  must  lather  with  us — 'Tss  !  'Tss  ! 

For  you  all  love  the  screw-guns,  etc. 
L  18  ] 


The  eagles  is  screamin'  around  us,  the  river's  a- 

moanin'  below ; 
We  're  clear  o'  the  pine  an'  the  oak-scrub,  we  're 

out  on  the  rocks  an'  the  snow  ; 
An'  the  wind  is  as  thin  as  a  whip-lash  what  carries 

away  to  the  plains 
The  rattle  an'  stamp  of  the  lead-mules,  the  jinglety- 

jink  o'  the  chains — 'Tss  !  'Tss  ! 

For  you  all  love  the  screw-guns,  etc. 

There 's  a  wheel  on  the  Horns  o'  the  Mornin',  an' 

a  wheel  on  the  edge  o'  the  Pit, 
An'  a  drop  into  nothin'  beneath  you  as  straight  as  a 

beggar  can  spit : 
With  the  sweat  runnin'  out  o'  your  shirt-sleeves, 

an'  the  sun  off  the  snow  in  your  face, 
An'  'arf  o'  the  men  on  the  drag-ropes  to  hold  the 

old  gun  in  'er  place  —  'Tss  !  'Tss  ! 

For  you  all  love  the  screw-guns,  etc. 

[  19  ] 


Smokin'  my  pipe  on  the  mountings,  sniffin'  the 
mornin'  cool, 

I  climbs  in  my  old  brown  gaiters  along  o'  my  old 
brown  mule. 

The  monkey  can  say  what  our  road  was— the 
wild-goat  'e  knows  where  we  passed. 

Stand  easy,  you  long-eared  old  darlin's  !  Out  drag- 
ropes  !  With  shrapnel !  Hold  fast— 'Tss  !  'Tss  ! 

For  you  all  love  the  screw-guns — the  screw- 
guns  they  all  love  you  ! 

So  when  we  take  tea  with  a  few  guns,  o'  course 
you  will  know  what  to  do  —  hoo  !  hoo  ! 

Jest  send  in  your  Chief  an'  surrender — it's 
worse  if  you  fights  or  you  runs  : 

You  may  'ide  in  the  caves,  they  '11  be  only  your 
graves,  but  you  can't  get  away  from  the 
guns  ! 


the  old  Moulmein  Pagoda,  lookin'  east- 
ward  to  the  sea, 
There 's  a  Burma  girl  a-settin',  an*  I  know  she 

thinks  o'  me  ; 

For  the  wind  is  in  the  palm-trees,  an'  the  temple- 
bells  they  say  : 

"  Come  you  back,  you  British  soldier ;  come  you 
back  to  Mandalay  !  " 

Come  you  back  to  Mandalay, 
Where  the  old  Flotilla  lay  : 
Can't  you  'ear  their  paddles  chunkin'  from  Ran- 
goon to  Mandalay  ? 
On  the  road  to  Mandalay, 
Where  the  flyin'-fishes  play, 
An'    the    dawn    comes   up    like    thunder    outer 
China  'crost  the  Bay  ! 


'Er  petticoat  was  yaller,  an'  'er  little  cap  was  green, 
An'  'er  name  was  Supi-yaw-lat — jes'  the  same  as 

Theebaw's  Queen  ; 
An'  I  seed  'er  first  a-smokin'  of  a  whackin'  white 

cheroot, 

An'  a-wastin'  Christian  kisses  on  an  'eathen  idol's  foot. 
Bloomin'  idol  made  o'  mud  — 
What  they  called  the  Great  Gawd  Budd ; 
Plucky  lot  she  cared  for  idols  when  I  kissed  'er 

where  she  stud  ! 
On  the  road  to  Mandalay,  etc. 

When  the  mist  was  on  the  rice-fields,  an'  the  sun 

was  droppin'  slow, 
She'd  git  'er  little  banjo  an'  she'd  sing  "Kulla- 

lo-lo  ! " 
With  'er  arm  upon  my  shoulder,  an'  'er  cheek  agin 

my  cheek, 
We  useter  watch  the  steamers  an'  the  hathis  pilin' 

teak. 

[    22    ] 


Elephints  a-pilin'  teak 
In  the  sludgy,  squdgy  creek, 
Where  the  silence  'ung  that  'eavy  you  was  'arf 

afraid  to  speak  ! 
On  the  road  to  Mandalay,  etc. 

But  that's  all  shove  be'ind  me  —  long  ago  an'  fur 

away, 
An'  there  ain't  no  'buses  runnin'  from  the  Bank  to 

Mandalay  ; 
An'  I'm  learnin'  'ere  in  London  what  the  ten-year 

soldier  tells  : 

"  If  you  've  'card  the  East  a-callin',  you  won't  never 
'eed  naught  else." 

No  !  you  won't  'eed  nothin'  else 
But  them  spicy  garlic  smells, 
An'   the  sunshine,  an'   the   palm-trees,  an'   the 

tinkly  temple-bells, 
On  the  road  to  Mandalay,  etc. 


I  am  sick  o'  wastin'  leather  on  these  gritty  pavin'- 

stones, 
An'  the  blasted  Henglish  drizzle  wakes  the  fever  in 

my  bones  ; 

Though  I  walks  with  fifty  'ousemaids  outer  Chel- 
sea to  the  Strand, 

An'  they  talks  a  lot  o'  lovin',  but  wot  do  they  un- 
derstand ? 

Beefy  face  an'  grubby  'and  — 
Law  !  wot  do  they  understand  ? 
I've   a   neater,    sweeter    maiden    in    a   cleaner, 

greener  land  ! 
On  the  road  to  Mandalay,  etc. 

Ship  me  somewheres  East  of  Suez,  where  the  best 

is  like  the  worst, 
Where  there  are  n't  no  Ten  Commandments,  an'  a 

man  can  raise  a  thirst ; 
For  the  temple-bells  are  callin',  an'  it 's  there  that  I 

would  be — 


r 


agantialap 

By  the  old  Moulmein  Pagoda,  lookin'  lazy  at  the 
sea,— 

On  the  road  to  Mandalay, 
Where  the  old  Flotilla  lay, 
With  our  sick   beneath   the  awnin's  when   we 

went  to  Mandalay  ! 
On  the  road  to  Mandalay, 
Where  the  flyin'-fishes  play, 
An'  the  dawn  comes  up  like  thunder  outer  China 
'crost  the  Bay  ! 


[  25  j 


Croopin' 

(OUR   ARMY  IN  THE  EAST) 


ROOPIN',  troopin',  troopin'  to  the  sea  : 
'Ere's  September  come  again  —  the  six-year 
men  are  free. 
O  leave  the  dead  be'ind  us,  for  they  cannot  come 

away 

To  where  the  ship 's  a-coalin'  up  that  takes  us  'ome 
to-day. 

We  're  goin'  'ome,  we  're  goin'  'ome  ! 

Our  ship  is  at  the  shore, 
An'  you  must  pack  your  'aversack, 

For  we  won't  come  back  no  more. 
Ho,  don't  you  grieve  for  me, 

My  lovely  Mary  Ann  ; 
For  I  '11  marry  you  yit  on  a  fourp'ny  bit 

As  a  time-expired  man  ! 

The  Malabar 's  in  'arbour,  with  the  Jumner  at  'er  tail, 
An'  the  time-expired 's  waitin'  of  'is  orders  for  to  sail. 

[  26  ] 


Croopuf 


Ho  !  the  weary  waitin'  when  on  Khyber  'ills  we 

lay; 
But  the  time-expired 's  waitin'  of  'is  orders  'ome 

to-day. 

They'll  turn  us  out  at  Portsmouth  wharf  in  cold 
an'  wet  an'  rain, 

All  wearin'  Injian  cotton  kit,  but  we  will  not  com- 
plain. 

They'll  kill  us  of  pneumonia — for  that's  their 
little  way  ; 

But  damn  the  chills  and  fever,  men  !  we  're  goin' 
'ome  to-day  ! 

Troopin',  troopin'  —  winter's  round  again  ! 

See  the  new  draf 's  pourin'  in  for  the  old  campaign. 

Ho,  you  poor  recruities  !  but  you  've  got  to  earn 

your  pay — 
What 's  the  last  from  Lunnon,  lads  ?  We  're  goin' 

there  to-day. 

[  27  ] 


Croopitf 


Troopin',  troopin' — give  another  cheer  ! 

'Ere's  to  English  women  an'  a  quart  of  English 

beer  ; 
The  Colonel  an'  the  regiment  an'  all  who've  got 

to  stay, 
Gawd's  mercy  strike  'em  gentle  !  Whoop  !  we  're 

goin'  'ome  to-day. 

We  're  goin'  'ome,  we  're  goin'  'ome  ! 

Our  ship  is  at  the  shore, 
An'  you  must  pack  your  'aversack, 

For  we  won't  come  back  no  more. 
Ho,  don't  you  grieve  for  me, 

My  lovely  Mary  Ann  ; 
For  I  '11  marry  you  yit  on  a  fourp'ny  bit, 

As  a  time-expired  man  ! 


